


To Delete Or Not to Delete

by mynameisnoneya



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Characters Reading Fanfiction, Characters Writing Fanfiction, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9230741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: Sansa Stark is a high school lit teacher who has recently discovered a passion for writing fanfiction about her favorite television show,Game of Crones.  Her passion to write, however, is dampened when she discovers that someone has recently posted a scathing review of her latest work.  What will she do now, and how will she handle the situation?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work is dedicated to all of you fanfiction writers out there who may have encountered someone who wasn't quite sure how to leave a positive critique of one of your stories.
> 
> Please note that I made sure to tag any and all characters that appear in this work, whether they have a speaking role or not. 
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

_A crone is a woman who has found her voice. She knows that silence is consent…her fierceness springs from the heart, gives her courage, makes her a force to be reckoned with._

          - Jean Shinoda Bolen, _Crones Don't Whine: Concentrated Wisdom for Juicy Women_

 

Sitting in the darkness of her dimly lit living room, stealing a few precious minutes of alone time, preparing to work on her latest fanfiction story about her favorite television show, _Game of Crones,_ Sansa sat on one end of her couch, staring in shock at her laptop.  These stolen moments in between grading papers and lesson planning were the times that helped Sansa stay sane.  Sane, that was, until tonight.

The last four years spent trudging through the halls of Riverrun Academy as a high school English lit instructor had left her feeling burned out and used up.  It wasn’t her classes of surly, brooding upper-class teens who worried more about their social media accounts than Chaucer that exhausted her.  Most of the kids were fairly obedient, although abnormally disengaged, with only a handful of students every now and then needing one good round of detention to straighten up and turn in their assignments on time.

No, it was the bureaucracy in place that was driving her batshit crazy.  Principal Tarth was a no-nonsense amazon who, if allowed, would do away with the entire fine arts and humanities program to focus exclusively on the 3 R’s.  Trying to convince her superior that a spring production of _A Midsummer’s Night Dream_ would be fun was like trying to convince Petyr Baelish, the high school’s economics teacher as well as chess team coach, that Sansa was not actually interested in his repeated overtures during lunch.

A few months ago, Sansa’s best friend, Margaery Tyrell, one of Riverrun Academy’s romance languages instructor and the drama club mentor, had turned Sansa on to the world of fanfiction.  Both diehard _Crones_ devotees, Sansa was surprised that a whole other realm existed for those folks who wished to explore alternative universes and unconventional character pairings with other rabid fans.  Margaery had been writing _Crones_ fanfiction in her spare time for almost six months, and at first, Sansa had been her slightly unwilling “beta.”

However, the more one-shots and lengthier works that Margaery churned out, the more intrigued Sansa became.  She wondered if she could do the same thing.  All along, her best friend had kept encouraging her to give it a try since Sansa, who possessed a Master’s in British Literature, had always been a terrific writer.  Even in high school, back in her nerdy, awkward, bespeckled days, she had been the editor of her high school’s literary magazine and a reporter for the school newspaper.

Sansa loved to write.  She was damn good at.  Why not?

And so, after tinkering for three weeks with her first epic saga, a multi-chapter variation on the way the last season of _Crones_ ended, she bit the proverbial bullet and hit the “post” button on her computer.  Within an hour, Sansa was stunned to see that she had 58 hits, 4 comments, and 9 kudos left on her work.

Since that late night a few months ago, Sansa was addicted.  She had spent any free minute developing more and more plot lines, scribbling notes in her journal while supervising study hall, creating her finely crafted masterpieces during the wee hours of the morning before going to bed at least a couple of times per week.  Her fan base was steady, the comments were always supportive, and the thrill of finally having an outlet for her creativity, which had been regularly stifled by the demands of being a full time high school teacher and part time tutor in the afternoons, was exhilarating.

And then the troll appeared.

Although the community of RonSa fans were typically supportive of each other’s works, offering constructive critiques and positive encouragement, apparently there existed a couple of trolls, ladies who were too chicken to post their own stories yet bold enough to attack the works of others.  These trolls, probably just as ugly in real life as they seemed online, Sansa assumed, loved to harass, belittle, and sometimes stalk a fanfiction writer, blasting their attempts to write, actively seeking to shout-down a person’s sense of self-worth.

This particular troll, calling herself “Dillanetaunt,” was perhaps one of the most notoriously obnoxious trolls who patrolled the RonSa community looking for new victims.  Margaery had warned Sansa that one day she might experience such an awful occurrence, as Margaery herself had undergone such an experience not one month ago.

Afraid that it would only get worse, Sansa had counseled her best friend to simply turn the other cheek, to ignore the vile comments, and to hope that the troll would just vanish as quickly as it had appeared.  That wasn’t how Margaery rolled, however.  Margaery, whose colorful language could put a sailor to shame, refused to submit to such a heinous attack on her work, choosing instead to dig in her three-inch heels, entering into a war of words that actually did manage to drive the troll away.

Since Sansa’s personality type was less inclined to enjoy a confrontation, whether it was in person or in a virtual world, she was unequivocally mortified at the thought of starting an online battle.  Yet when Sansa posted her latest fanfiction work of art, an erotic, alternative universe rendition that paired two of her favorite characters from _Crones_ , Ron and Sandra, she finally encountered a troll.

Horrified to see a rather lengthy, scathing comment posted just minutes ago in reference to her previously posted chapter, Sansa froze.  Not only did “Dillanetaunt” attack her story’s merit, but the troll basically called Sansa a worthless hack.

_What…the…Jesus!  That was way over the top!_

Immediately grabbing her cell phone, Sansa tapped out a text to Margaery.  Even though it was almost midnight, she knew that her best friend was a night owl and most likely awake, probably working on her own fanfiction tale.

_Sansa:  Log on to my last chapter of “Doing the Night Thing.”  Check out the last comment._

Only three minutes passed before Sansa heard her cell phone ding.

_Margaery:  WTF?  That was uncalled for.  I hate trolls!  So, what are you planning to do?_

Sansa worried her bottom lip, staring blankly at the troll’s comment. 

_Sansa:  Delete it?_

_Margaery:  Trolls take more than one delete to run their sorry asses off.  Send her a nasty reply._

_Sansa:  But that will just stir her up!  I don’t like conflict…_

_Margaery:  You never have.  But if you ignore her, she’ll just keep coming back._

_Sansa:  I could switch to moderating comments mode…_

_Margaery:  True.  Do that first.  Then post a reply and blast the bitch._

Sansa sighed.  She felt torn.  Her hackles were raised, wanting nothing more than to fire a volley to counter attack the troll’s impolite and rather aggressive commentary.  However, she knew deep-down that entering a battle of the wits with an unarmed foe would only lead to hours of her life spent trying to prove herself right to a person who didn’t care about right and wrong, only their own opinion.

_Sansa:  I don’t think I can do that…_

_Margaery:  Want me to reply to her?_

_Sansa:  HELL NO!  Just maybe leave a comment about the chapter that’s nice?_

_Margaery:  I’m all over it._

Waiting a few minutes before refreshing her browser, Sansa smiled when she read Margaery’s comment.  Her best friend truly had a way with words, skirting around the potential skirmish yet managing to indicate her displeasure with the troll.

_Sansa:  I love you._

_Margaery:  Right back at you (wink)._

Sansa took a deep breath.  She was being ridiculous.  Surely this online bully would go away soon enough, finding a worthier opponent to engage in battle.  Taking another deep breath to calm her nerves, Sansa simply deleted the troll’s comment, figuring that this person would never notice since they most likely had already moved on to the next writer to criticize.

Just as she was about to shut the lid to her laptop and head upstairs for bed, Sansa’s cellphone buzzed, letting her know she had another email.

Much to her amazement, the email indicated that there was already a reply posted to Margaery’s comment.  Once again the troll had struck, this time blasting Sansa for deleting the previous over-the-top criticism, chastising Sansa either to grow the balls to take a comment as-is or to monitor them in the first place.

A wave of anger swept over Sansa.  Her pale, lightly freckled skin was on fire. 

_Of all the low-down…ugh!_

Sansa logged back into her fanfiction account, feverishly hammering out a scathing retort, determined to tell this “Dillanetaunt” that she needed to get a life and to learn how to provide constructive criticism instead of trying so damn hard to be mean.

As Sana’s well-manicured nails flew across the keyboard, she heard the sound of someone walking down the stairs.

_Crap!  Close the lid!  Close the lid!_

“Hey,” Jon mumbled as he entered the living room, the sleep thick in his voice, making it even lower and huskier than usual.  “You coming to bed?”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in a few minutes,” Sansa lied, knowing full-well that once she could shoo Jon back upstairs, she was going to suit up for battle.

“What are you doing up, anyway?” he asked, flopping onto the couch beside her, rubbing his dark brown eyes.

“Just surfing the web, checking emails, you know…” she lied again, the dishonesty she was spouting off so easily at her long-time boyfriend paining her heart.

Jon studied her nervous expression.  “Emails?  At almost midnight?  On a school night?”

“Yup.  Emails,” she tried, hoping that she looked more confident than she sounded.

“Sansa,” Jon began, reaching out to stroke her long, copper hair, tucking a lock behind her ear, “You’ve been exhausted for months now.  You stay up late, spend tons of time on your computer, and you act completely skittish any time I show up while you’re on it.  What’s up?”

She knew that look.  That was the look Jon gave her when he wanted to talk.  The same look he had given her last year when she had become obsessed with learning how to decorate cakes.  And when she had decided to redecorate their townhouse.  For the third time in two years.

“Nothing…nothing’s up,” she claimed, her crystal blue eyes not able to meet his out of the shame at having lied yet again about the reason she’d been staying up so late for so long.

“Please talk to me, Sansa,” Jon whispered, his voice crackling slightly, “Is…are you…is there someone else?”

Sansa’s copper eyebrows shot up to her hairline.  “No!  Goodness, no!  What in the world made you ask that?”

“Because,” he began, running his hands through his chin-length brown curls, “You and I…we don’t…we’re not _together_ that much anymore.  You don’t come to bed until I’m asleep.  Then you’re up early, doing whatever it is you do on your laptop.  And the last two movie nights we’ve had, you wound up click-clacking away on that thing instead of hanging out with me like you used to.”

_Shit.  Shitty, shitty, shit, shit.  He’s right.  I’ve ignored him for almost three months now.  Fuck!_

“Jon,” Sansa pled as she grabbed his hand, “There is no one else.  No. One. Else.  I love you.  I’ve loved you since that day we met in college.  I’m not cheating on you, I swear to the gods!”

“Then why all this?” Jon demanded, waving his free hand over her computer, “Why are you so obsessed with emails and web surfing lately?”

Sansa took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.  Resolving herself to her fate, she opened the lid to her laptop, clicking on Word.

“Here.  This is why,” she stated, plopping her laptop into Jon’s boxer-covered lap.

“Huh?” he asked, glancing at her computer screen then back up to look into her eyes, “What is this?”

“Just…just read,” Sansa mumbled, bracing herself for the inevitable round of explanation and contrition she would have to endure once Jon finished reading her latest smut-filled saga based on _Crones._

Time seemed to freeze as Sansa watched Jon’s eyes scissor across the screen.  Occasionally, his deep brown eyes widened or his lips curved into a devilish grin.  She could imagine that both actions were reactions to the various levels of soft-core porn the two protagonists, Ron and Sandra, enjoyed frequently in her works.

“So…” Jon said, scratching at his short beard, pointing to the screen of Sansa’s laptop, “This is why you’ve been so preoccupied lately?”

“Yeah, that’s why,” she replied, hanging her head in disgrace, “Go ahead.  Laugh at me.  I’m sure I deserve it.”

The silence in the living room descended upon them like a load of bricks that had just been dumped by their patio door.  She looked up from staring at her purple flannel pajama bottoms, meeting Jon’s hard stare.  His eyes were blown wide, his tongue darting out to trace his lower lip.

_Dear, God…he’s not…_

“That was… _hot,_ ” Jon spoke slowly, slamming the lid to her laptop, tossing it beside him on the couch.

When he stood suddenly, yanking her into the air and crushing her lips with his own, Sansa squealed in shock.  She could feel his hard erection pressing into her.

“Jesus, Jon!” she moaned as he broke their kiss long enough to grab her hand, bringing it to cup his manhood.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were writing that stuff sooner?” he smiled, grinding himself into her small palm, “That was fantastic!  Not just the sex; the whole thing.”

“You really think so?” Sansa gasped, losing herself to the sensation of him lowering his head to nibble at her long neck, unable to answer his question at the moment.

“I loved it,” Jon spoke in between nips, “I really did.  Now get in the bed.  Like, _now.”_

The feral look consuming his face told Sansa all that she needed to know.  And all that she needed to expect.

The next morning while sipping her mug of coffee, Sansa sat at the kitchen table of their townhouse, studying the screen on her laptop, rereading her freshly created response to the troll’s message from last night.  Jon had just left for work a few minutes ago, reminding her that he had to work late tonight, kissing her good-bye with more passion than he had expressed to her in several months.

Smiling widely, Sansa, who had just altered her story’s preferences to not allow postings without her approval, hit the “reply” button, shutting down her laptop and preparing to depart for her day at the high school.

Somewhere in cyberspace, the troll was reading Sansa’s reply:

_Dear Dillanetaunt,_

_Thank you for your in-depth review of my latest chapter.  I have read it thoroughly, and after much careful consideration of the points you listed, I have but three things to say in reply._

_First, in regards to your use of the term “buddy,” I do believe that you and I are not what one would typically classify as such.  Buddies give positive, helpful comments and critiques.  Perhaps you should look up the definition of the word “buddy” in the dictionary.  Or Google it, since you probably don’t own one._

_Second, as I see you’ve not posted any works of your own, I’m waiting with the proverbial bated breath, desperate to read your first story.  Truly, it should be nothing short of a literary masterpiece, possessing a completely unique perspective, devoid of any clichés, full of powerful character development, and written so incredibly well that the rest of us humble peons here online will bow to your sheer awesomeness._

_Finally, please feel free to troll the web for other writers to shame.  I’m quite certain that it would be most unfair of me to expect you to keep your talents all to myself._

_Regards,_

_PorcelainIvorySteel_

And much to Sansa’s astonishment, the troll never replied.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. Writing that story was a whole lot cheaper than therapy. Thanks for reading it!


End file.
